


tell me when you hear my heart stop

by tidaline



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Pre-Canon, Unrequited Love, lots of jumping across flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 22:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6303166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tidaline/pseuds/tidaline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo Tetsurou has exactly three months before the love of his life leaves for a place he cannot follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell me when you hear my heart stop

**Author's Note:**

> i have finally finished this five legged monster after three sleepless nights oh my god
> 
> also, please listen to this fic's playlist accompaniment, here: 8tracks.com/tidaline/tell-me-when-you-hear-my-heart-stop
> 
> i highly recommend it hehe

**i. three months ago**

The first thing that comes to Kuroo’s mind when he hears the words _move_ and _California_ is distance. Between Sendai and California, there is 14,334 kilometers worth of seas and skies and land. Between Kuroo and Daichi, physically, two feet.

It comes like lightning without warning when Daichi announces the big news— sudden and sharp. So much so that Kuroo almost drops the hot mug of coffee in his hands. His hands shake slightly, forming ripples across the dark liquid.

“Koushi and I are moving to California this August!” Daichi beams as the sun rays dance across his skin, his eyes lit with a spark of enthusiasm. He says it with such ease that Kuroo almost lets a scoff escape his lips. He could taste the bitterness forming in the back of his throat, a flavor that was completely different, far more potent, than that of coffee.

 _How very Daichi_ , he thinks to himself as Daichi proceeds to talk about the big promotion that led to his soon-to-be departure, which apartments they have their eye on, and their plans after settling in. But all of Daichi words fell on deaf ears. By the time he started talking about all the specifics, Kuroo was already long gone.

Daichi’s voice is reduced to humming playing in the back of Kuroo’s mind. In silence, he stares at Daichi, and the smile that he keeps, and he thinks about time. The time he had spent sneaking glances during training camps. The hours of sleep he had lost after they had first met, nearly ten years ago. The four years they had spent together, cramped up in their small but homey apartment in urban Tokyo, and the countless Saturdays they had spent burying their faces in books in local coffee shops during midterm season. The fraction of a second when Kuroo was just about ready to trade it all away and confess, just five minutes ago. And the three months he has left.

“Kuroo? Can you hear me?” Daichi stops and glances at him with questioning eyes. A silence covers the atmosphere like fog as Kuroo’s mind races with the infinitely many things he wants to say, and the infinitely many things Daichi could say in return.

Kuroo wants to tell him that he wasn’t ready to see him go. To give him a bit more time. That the sun doesn’t quite set the way it does, with its lilac and crimson sky, in California the way it does in Miyagi. That Sendai would always be home, and that’s where Daichi belonged. 

Kuroo knew that all of these thoughts would sound beyond irrational if they ever manage to escape his lips, but if there was any room for selfishness, Kuroo would’ve surely asked him to stay.  

Finally, Kuroo’s lips move. But his chest feels so heavy— the kind that feels like an anchor is tugging at his lungs— that the only thing he could let out is:

“So, America, huh?”

* * *

 

 

**ii. four years ago**

Daichi sits across the table with his head hung low and his eyes glued to the textbook and blueprint printouts that are scattered on the side. It’s closing to midnight now. The silver moon is already perched high and mighty over the midnight sky, and every now and then, a car in passing would flash its lights, the glass window reflecting it to the inside of the café.

 Kuroo figures they must have been here for what seemed like an eternity, seeing as Daichi’s been at it since this afternoon. Daichi’s third cup of brewed coffee, which had grown cold from neglect, has been sitting idly by the edge of the table for so long that any minute now, Kuroo might just find a thin sheet of dust enclosing it. He wonders if his roommate was still alive under the mountain of books that obstruct his view.

“You should really take a break” Kuro speaks, disrupting five hours worth of silence.

Daichi’s head props up to reveal tired eyes and the darkening circles around them. “You look like you’re just about ready to drop dead any second now,” Kuroo says.

“Sorry,” Daichi’s laugh is weak and airy, the exhaustion apparent in his voice, “I guess I’m just a little nervous for this exam.”

“That’s what you said about the last one” Kuroo squints and Daichi’s face colors.

Kuroo lets out a heavy sigh and exhales so much air that he could feel his lungs shriveling within his chest. He extends an arm across the table and clutches Daichi by the arm. His skin is surprisingly warm to the touch, despite the icy winds that have been plaguing the city. Daichi jumps at the contact— possibly from Kuroo’s cold fingers, or the fact that Kuroo wasn’t the touchy type. Still, for what ever reason, he remains unmoving, anticipating Kuroo to speak.

“You do know that you don’t have to overwork yourself” Kuroo coos, “Your sensei said it himself: you’ve got a bright future. One of the best young architects he’s seen in a while. You’ve got clients keeping an eye out for you already. If you asked me, you sound like you’re all set!”

“Do you really think so?” Daichi’s voice is so soft that if the café was bustling like it was a few hours ago, Kuroo would’ve missed it. Daichi looks at him with warm eyes, fractals of color reflected on his eye from the bright city lights outside the shop.

In the six years that had known each other, this is the first time Kuroo had seen Daichi so vulnerable. Because, the fact of the matter is, Daichi Sawamura was anything but vulnerable. Over the years, Daichi’s calm and composed nature had become a running joke. _Aren’t you Daich “Solid Boy” Sawamura?_ , Kuroo would always tease, _“Are you always this solid?”_ And, most of the time, Daichi doesn’t argue.  But today, Daichi is not quite Daichi, and Kuroo doesn’t quite know the right words to say.

“I know so” Kuroo offers, not a trace of ingenuity, and Daichi smiles, in spite of his weary self.

“You’re the best person I know, Sawamura-san. You really are.”

* * *

 

 

**iii. two months ago**

 

“You look like you haven’t slept in days.” Kenma’s tone is unusually loud, so much so that it snaps Kuroo out of his trance. Often, Kuroo would have to ask Kenma to repeat the things he says— if he even said anything at all. At times, he mistakes Kenma’s voice for the sound of the wind. But, not today. Kenma’s voice is as clear as day.

Kuroo’s head darts up, only to find Kenma staring at him with wide eyes. The screen on Kenma’s PSP flashes the word PAUSE in big bold letters. A rare occasion. A cause for alarm.

Kenma is not lying. In all honesty, Kuroo couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten eight hours of sleep.  On good days, he would get just enough to last him a day of work. On worse days, he’d be up all night watching the starless sky, waiting for the morning sun to break through the gaps of his shutters.

Ever since that day at the coffee shop, Kuroo hasn’t felt like himself. He could still hear the words _move, California,_ and _August_ ringing in his ear. He had Daichi’s words memorize like the back of his hand, that if someone told him that the incident only happened yesterday, Kuroo wouldn’t have protested. 

Perhaps he was still in a state of shock. A type of paralysis that makes like cancer, rotting him from within. Or, maybe this was all just a prolonged nightmare that Kuroo couldn’t seem to wake up from.  A figment of his imagination. That any minute now, he’d wake up to find that Daichi wasn’t in fact leaving.

As unreasonable as it sounds, Kuroo still desperately hopes it was the latter.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s been bothering you, or are you gonna sit there and stare at blank space again for fifteen more minutes?” Kenma shifts his gaze back to his PSP and unpauses the game. He taps his fingers against the keyboard so rigorously that Kuroo fears that the console might break. Kuroo knew Kenma well enough that this was a sign of frustration. Only, he wasn’t quite sure if it is because of the grueling boss battle his friend was fighting, or him.

Kuroo opens his mouth to speak, but Kenma beats him to it.

“Is this about Sawamura-san leaving for America?” Kenma mutters, not looking up from his game. He pushes one last button, and Kuro hears a sound from the PSP.

 _Game over_.

* * *

 

  **iv.** **one month ago**

“Tetsurou,” His sister says from across the table, her eyebrows furrowed and her forehead creased, “you’ve been staring intently at that rice bowl for the past ten minutes. Is everything okay?”

Kuro forces a smile that almost looks sickly.

“Surely”

* * *

 

 

**v. ten years ago**

Kuroo is fifteen when he meets Sawamura Daichi for the first time.

The first thing he notices at first glance is how solid he looks— literally and figuratively. He sees this boy— short dark hair that never allows itself to breach his forehead, fairly tall in comparison to his teammates, slightly stocky—and gawks at the amazing build he possess.  He had great arms, the kind that were lean yet muscular, bulky but not too much. Not to mention, his strong thighs that make like pillars. If it hadn’t been for the two other first years that border him, he would’ve thought the dark-haired boy to be a second year. Kuroo can’t deny that for someone his age, the boy had a great physique. Nothing like the scrawny freshmen that are usually present in every team.

In the back of his mind, Kuroo pens him down as Solid Boy— a nickname he felt fit the boy well.

 _He must be the receiving kind_ , Kuroo thinks, as Coach Nekomata leads them over to the entrance of the gym where Karasuno is clustered together. Judging by the wonder-filled expressions on their faces Kuroo figures it must be their first time in the city.

“Is that the Tokyo tower?!” He hears Solid Boy gasp in excitement, extending his arm out to point at a regular old steel tower. A chuckle escapes Kuroo, one that he immediately tries to mute as he covers his mouth with his hand.

Of course, Solid Boy seems to have caught him laughing. He looks at Kuroo with eyebrows raised, “Well, is it?”

“I’m afraid not” Kuroo gives him a thoughtful smile. Solid Boy lets his face fall for a second, only to glace back up at Kuroo in the next.

“Oh, sorry. I guess I just got a bit excited.” Solid Boy places a hand at the back of his neck in an attempt to curve his apparent fluster. Kuroo feels the blood rushing to his face and a fluttering in his chest that was almost painful.

“My names Sawamura Daichi, by the way.” Solid Boy— Daichi holds a hand out and flashes the most congenial smile Kuroo has ever seen. Kuroo feels a lump in his throat weighing down on his windpipe, his breath coming in wisps. If looks really could kill, Kuroo would be six feet under by now.

Kuroo pats his palm, sweaty from nervousness, on the side of his shirt and clasps Daichi’s hand, trying his best to give a convincing handshake. “Kuroo Tetsurou. Pleasure to meet you.”

The sun is shining behind Daichi, enveloping his face in white light, and Kuroo feels himself holding his breath.

The next few words the come out of Daichi’s mouth were more like a promise than anything else.

“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other over the next few years” Kuroo takes it in like the chorus to his favorite song, the threat of Last Song Syndrome creeping in.

Sawamura Daichi: Kuroo couldn’t forget the name even if he tried.

* * *

 

 

 

**vi. two weeks ago**

The marker on Kuroo’s inbox flashes the number "1" in bright red, as though it was begging to be noticed. Kuroo felt the blood drain from his body as Daichi’s name appears, highlighted in grey.

“Hey Kuroo! I haven’t heard from you in a while. Did you get my emails? I’ve been trying to contact you for some time now, but I’m not sure if you got all my other messages.” Daichi starts. Kuroo feels sick to his stomach. Guilt was something he felt coming. After all, Daichi probably knew that he had gotten every single one of his messages, and that Kuroo has read all of them.  Not that he would ever say it out loud, however. Daichi was Daichi, and of course he would keep on pretending for Kuroo’s sake.

“I’m sure you're busy with work and all.” Daichi goes on to say, “I’ve been, too, with all the preparation for the big move and all! Haha!” Kuroo grits his teeth, his jaw clenched tightly. He could sense his better judgement waving red flags in the back of his mind, telling him to stop, that anything beyond what he has read was sure to be painful. But Kuroo was a fool for Daichi, as he has always been, and he proceeds to read on, despite himself.

“But, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up at the Tanabata festival. Koushi and I are leaving on the night of the eighth, so I was hoping we’d get to see each other before we go. For old times’ sake, y’know.” Daichi’s tone is earnest, and then there is hesitation, “Of course, I’d understand if you’re busy and all. I know Sendai’s quite a long trip from Tokyo. You probably have other plans for that week, too. I’m sorry.  I should have probably asked a month in advance.”

It’s the last line, however, that shatters Kuroo and turns him into glass, “But, if you could make it, it would mean the world to me, Kuroo. It really would. Let me know, alright? I hope you see this message, and I hope to see you soon.”

From the back, the warm streetlights from his window dance around the fabric of Kuroo’s shirt like fire. The soft blue light of the computer screen attempts to illuminate his face, but only for its efforts to fall in vain. His hands cup his face so tightly that no light was allowed to enter his line of sight. Tiny droplets splash against Kuroo's keyboard, dripping slowly in between the plastic keys. Tonight, Kuroo’s eyes feel like waterfalls, his eyelids heavy as boulders.

Kuroo always says that there are two kinds of crying: the kind that made no sound, and the other that did. Ever since childhood, Kuroo always made sure that his parents would never hear him crying. Because Dad said that crying was something boys should never be caught doing. And that he had be strong, no matter what.

But tonight, if you listen closely, you’ll find that the sharp sound of muffled sobbing will lead you right in front of Kuroo’s door.

* * *

 

 

 **vii.**   **three years ago**

Kuroo is working on case studies when he hears the door slamming from the other end of the room followed by a loud thud against the wooden floor. The papers slips from Kuroo’s hand and scatters across the ground, creating a blanket of white on his bedroom floor. Acting on instinct, Kuroo grabs the first thing he sees, his desk lamp, and secures it in his hands.

There are about a dozen uncertainties running around Kuroo’s mind at the moment. Like why a burglar choose their shabby apartment, out of all places, in urban Tokyo, or how the thief managed to get inside in the first place-- because Kuroo swears he checked the locks after supper, or whether his measly desk lamp would put up much of a fight against his attacker, especially if there was more than on of them.

These thoughts are set aside for a moment as he tiptoes cautiously to the door, not allowing himself to make even the slightest of sound. A dark figure on the floor catches his eye as Kuroo leans against the side of the door pane. Kuroo closes his eyes and exhales slowly, calming himself in the process.

However, as he was just about ready to swing his lamp at full force, he makes the figure out to be Daichi, lying face down on the ground.

“Daichi-san?” The words roll out of his tongue involuntarily.

Daichi doesn’t respond immediately, and this causes Kuroo to panic. Setting down the desk lamp, Kuroo bends down and nudges Daichi on the shoulder, his body as hard as rock. A certain scent, familiar, yet at the same time foreign, seemed to envelope Daichi, but Kuroo couldn’t quite pin point just what it was.

“Daichi-san?” He repeats, and this time Daichi rolls over to reveal his face, the color of crimson, and the heatwaves that travel all across to Kuroo.

“Oh, Kuroo” Daichi murmurs, his voice low and coarse. _Alcohol._ Kuroo almost says the word out loud.

Daichi wasn’t a habitual drinker. If anything, he was the designated sober friend that always made sure Kuroo got home in one piece. It had become such an unspoken rule that Kuroo need not count the times Daichi had to tolerate his shenanigans, dragged him home, and put him to bed.  So, naturally, it comes as a shock to Kuroo to see his friend— responsible and reliable as he is— sprawled on the floor, as far away from sober as he possibly could be.

“Jeez, Daichi. You look like a mess” is the first thing that comes out of Kuroo’s mouth. It comes out half as a question, half as a statement of fact, yet Daichi’s response is in the form of undecipherable mumbles. So Kuroo decides to ask the more practical question.

“How much did you drink?”

“I lost count after three” Daichi says to the wooden floor.

But, halfway through the sentence, Kuroo’s words make like bullets, cutting through before Daichi could finish, “Does Sugawara-san know?”

Daichi’s face hardens like stone, his eyes resembling glass. Instantly, Kuroo figures he had struck gold.

“We had a fight.” was his only answer. Daichi’s voice is so somber and so indifferent that Kuroo could barely believe it was Daichi speaking.

The air in the room is heavy and tense, brought about by the elephant in the room that was demanding for attention. Kuroo’s first instinct is to ask what the fight was about, but this was not something he wanted to impose at this time. The next is to ask if Daichi wanted to talk about it, but the answer was already right in front of him, in the form of his drunken friend.  Kuroo figures that, if it was something Daichi could put into words, he would’ve called him in a heartbeat.

“Let’s get you off of the floor” is what Kuroo settles for. Kuroo grabs Daichi by the arm in an attempt to get him back on his feet, only, it doesn’t go quite as planned. Kuroo is anchored by the weight of Daichi, in turn, throwing him out of balance. Kuroo is on the ground now, and Daichi’s forehead crinkles from laughter. Kuroo decides that the next best thing is to get Daichi sitting upright.

What happens next is a little funny, and a little frustrating– to Kuroo, at least. One moment, he is arms are linked with Daichi’s as he’s dragging his sluggish body across the floor of their apartment. The next, Daichi is a cross between groaning and laughing, and Kuroo has half the mind to just drop him right then and there. Then, after roughly fifteen minutes of complaining from both parties, Daichi is finally leaning against the wall, adjacent to their living room door.

“Just yell if you need anything, okay?” Kuroo huffs and wipes the droplets of sweat condensed on the crook of his brow, “I’ll just be in my room finishing up some papers”

Just as Kuroo turns to make his way back to his room, Daichi‘s hand cuffs Kuroo’s wrist. Kuroo’s whips back so fast that you could hear a light snap.

“Would it be okay if you stayed here for a while?” Daichi’s eyes are pleading, and part of Kuroo regrets looking back. “Please, just for a bit.”

Kuroo wishes he was stronger— strong enough not to give in, strong enough to say no, strong enough to resist Daichi because he knows that nothing good will come out of this. But Kuroo’s knees become weak, and before he knows it, he is slumped on the floor next to Daichi, their bodies close enough to touch.

There is only silence for a while as they sat there with their eyes to the ground. Kuroo thinks he should say something. Not that anything could save Daichi, --or him, for that matter— at this point. Kuroo opens his mouth to speak, but his courage is drowned out by the sound of Daichi’s voice.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called you” his voice cracks at the word “you”, and something in Kuroo shatters. There are many ways to answer Daichi. _You should have_ , would be too harsh, _I forgive you_ , too self-righteous, as if Daichi was more of a burden than anything else. So Kuroo settles for an answer that would do the least damage.

“It’s okay” Kuroo says, because that is what he wants to believe— that this is okay. He hopes that Daichi believes it, too.

Minutes pass, and Kuroo starts to believe that Daichi had fallen asleep. His fist instinct is to run off and get him a pillow and a blanket before he catches a cold, but as Kuroo’s weight shifts slightly, Daichi clasps Kuroo’s free hand and squeezes it gently, his warm hand soothing to Kuroo’s cold skin. Kuroo’s body responds quickly, his heartbeat rising at an exponential rate, on contact. He lets the feeling linger for a while before looking over at Daichi-- whose eyes are fighting to keep themselves open **\--** just to prove to himself that this is not a dream.

“Just a bit more” Daichi mouths with the slightest of sound.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere” Kuro’s words are filled with conviction and reassurance that they sounded more like a promise when said out loud.

Those were the last words of the night. Daichi doesn’t say anything in return, but Kuroo reads the soft smile on his lips easily. This was Daichi’s way of saying thank you, when no words could ever feel enough.

Daichi finally closes his eyes and rest his head on Kuroo’s shoulder, allowing himself to rest. Kuroo doesn’t flinch. Instead, he closes his eyes, too, and lets the soft humming of the rising and falling of Daichi’s chest put him to sleep.

They stay like this for the rest of the night— with Kuroo’s hand, palm up, enveloped by Daichi’s, their bodies nested together by the entrance of their apartment— until the morning light seeping through the gap between the door and the ground reached the tip of their toes.

* * *

 

 

**viii. today**

Kuroo tugs at his yukata at all sides, trying to make himself look as presentable and put together, despite being the exact opposite of those two words.

Kuroo had replied to Daichi three days after to say that he’ll meet him here in Sendai, and that he was looking forward to seeing him, too. Only, it took five revisions, two hours of staring at the computer screen, and half a bottle of beer for Kuroo to press “enter.” If Daichi was present in physical form, he would’ve seen Kuroo lying through his teeth, and many things he had omitted in the message. Lucky— or unlucky, whichever way you see it-- for Kuroo, Daichi bought his response and sent the details within the span of one hour. With that, the deal was sealed and he was off buying a round trip ticket for one from Tokyo to Sendai.

In theory, Kuroo still had a chance to bail, to find a quaint little café in Miyagi to pass the time. But that would mean running away, and he had done nothing but that for the past three months. Daichi deserved more, after all.

The steady crowd of people lead Kuroo to the Tanabata festival, where the bursts colors and the effervescent lights breathe life into the heart of Miyagi. Women in yukatas of all colors probe around the area, and children are huddled over on one side, waiting their turn to scoop goldfish from a small blue crate. The street is lined by delicate paper lanterns, contrasted by food stall of all kinds, from yakitori, to takoyaki, to Kuroo’s favorite kakigori. Kuroo had just about seen it all— everything except the person who had brought him here in the first place.

Kuroo almost reaches for him phone, tucked tightly under the waistband of his yukata, but a familiar voice calling out his name from a distance was enough to make him consider otherwise.

The first thing he sees when he turns around is Daichi in a dark blue yukata, sprinting and weaving through the sea of people, waving his hand in the air. Kuro couldn’t resist the smile playing on his lips and he watches Daichi struggling not to bump shoulders with the crowd. The image that follows is that of Sugawara trailing behind Daichi. He is wearing a light blue one that complemented Daichi’s perfectly, and his staple warm smile that earned him the nickname Mr. Refreshing. Kuroo’s lets his smile fall ever so slightly.

“Kuroo-san” Daichi barely makes out. His hands are on his knees, using them as crutches as he recovers to the run. Daichi says, in between heaves “I’m glad you made it. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world” Kuroo says, by the skin of his teeth. Kuroo bows his head slightly when Sugawara finally catches up.

Sugawara bows in return, his voice is so genuinely polite that Kuroo finds it hard to look him in the eye, “It’s a pleasure to see you, Kuroo-san! I haven’t seen you since the last time I went to visit Daichi in Tokyo.”

Sugawara’s hand slides underneath Daichi’s arm, his fingers finding Daichi’s, intertwining with them like threads of rope. Kuroo finds his gaze fixated on their hands, which fit together so perfectly and naturally. Daichi runs his thumb across Sugawara’s wrist all the way to his knuckles. Kuroo wonders if Daichi’s are still as warm as he remembers, and if Sugawara found it as comforting to the touch as he once did.

“It’s a pleasure to see you too, Sugawara-san” Kuroo replies, “It’s a good thing I got to catch you both before your flight.”

“Daichi has been fussing about it all week, to be honest” Sugawara tells it to him like a secret, “Says he absolutely had to see you before we left.”

“We was never really good at saying goodbye” Suga chuckles, but the smile on Kuroo’s face is sickly.

“Neither am I” Kuroo says under his breath.

“Ah, never mind all that” Daichi nudges Suga’s sides, earning him a playful slap on the arm.

“We should get going” Sugawara takes a quick glance at his watch, “The fireworks display should be starting soon”

“Actually—” The word blurts out faster than Kuroo could catch it, “I was wondering if I could have a word with you, Daichi-san”

Sugawara blinks at him, but he smiles at Kuroo without a trace of hesitation. He answers for Daichi, instead “I’ll go on ahead! I’ll see you in a bit?”

“Surely” Daichi beams and kisses him lightly on the cheek. Their fingers untangle just as easily as they intertwine. It looked so effortless that Kuroo can’t help but think that, if he were in Sugawara’s position, letting go would be a the hardest thing to do.

Sugawara disappears into the crowd, leaving Kuroo and Daichi alone by the kakigori stand. Kuroo nods to Daichi and starts to navigate away from the festival. Daichi trails behind him quietly and without question. It is not long before Kuroo finds a park bench, overlooking the sea of people, with their lanterns and woven mats, waiting in anticipation for the fireworks.

Kuroo takes a seat first, followed by Daichi who is rubbing his palms together— something he only did when his nervousness turns physical.

Kuroo has played out the scenario in his head a thousand times: first is the confession, which had been creeping and mutating into a multi-legged monster in the back of his mind since their first year of training camp; second is the certain rejection, the part that Kuroo has been preparing for, far before he had made sense of the feelings in his chest; third is the closure that Kuroo sincerely hopes will comes.

There is no easy way to say what he is about to say, but Kuroo figures there was no point in prolonging what has been coming for the longest time.

“Daichi.” His name drips like honey from Kuroo’s lips.

“I just—” It takes every ounce of strength for Kuroo to get his words out, despite all his rehearsal, but Daichi is patient and understanding, “I was wondering if you could…if you could do me one last favor before you go”

“Absolutely” Daichi doesn’t miss a beat, “Anything”

 “Could you…hold my hand…one last time?”

Kuroo snaps his head so fast, in an attempt to avert Daichi’s gaze, that he could feel the slightest sense of whiplash in his bones. He shuts his eyes so tight that his head starts to feel funny, dizzy from the pressure.

“Is this what I think—” Daichi cuts himself off. Kuroo foresees the many things Daichi could possibly say in return— _I’m sorry_ , or _I’m in love with Sugawara,_ or _I only see you as a friend_ —none of them less painful that the other.

To Kuroo’s surprise, Daichi utters the word “Alright” so calmly that Kuroo had to check, to make sure he heard him right.

Daichi’s hands move slowly, his thumb carving a path from Kuroo’s wrist, the back of his hand, until Daichi’s fingers finally find their way in between the gaps of Kuroo’s. Kuroo smiles at the answer to his previous inquiry: that, indeed, Daichi’s hand is still the same kind of warm,  as it was the night he last held it. Only tonight, it is a different kind of comfortable.

They sit side by side, hand in hand, for a while, listening to the cicadas sings their lovely tune. But silence only ever last for a while between Kuroo and Daichi, and soon there are words that need to be said.

“If there was ever a time I led you on, or did something to—” Daichi only gets so far before Kuroo cuts him off with a sharp, “Stop!”

“Stop” Kuroo says again, more soundly this time, “It’s all on me. You did nothing wrong. You’re—”

 _Perfect_ is the word that comes out, but, in truth, Daichi had transcended that descriptor ages ago.

“I’m sorry” Daichi whispers with a tremble in his voice, “If I ever hurt you, even in the slightest, I— I’m sorry”

“You’ll always have a special place in my heart, Kuroo” His eyes start to well up at the sound of his name, “Promise me you won’t forget.”

A stream of color draws a line from the ground to the night sky, followed by a loud popping sounds, and then an explosion of light – the first firework.

“I won’t” Tears fall from Kuroo’s eyes, despite his best effort. He should’ve know from past experience that he could never be strong enough when it came to Sawamura Daichi.

Daichi squeezes his hand and brushes the back of Kuroo’s hand with his thumb in such rhythm that it almost feels like a lullaby. Daichi eyes glance over to the crowd, whose cheers they could hear, even from this distance.

“I should get back to Koushi” Daichi says it like an apology, “Are you going to be okay?”

“I hope so” Kuroo smiles wearily, his answer never more genuine. Daichi could only offer a worried frown, disguising itself as half a smile. They both know that hope was all Kuroo could promise for now.

Daichi pulls away his hand from Kuroo’s slower than he had latched on to it. Kuroo presses his lips together, biting his bottom lip to curve the sounds of sobbing that threaten to escape. Daichi stands up, finally breaking all physical contact from Kuroo, and gives his friend one last look as reassurance--for himself and for Kuroo. Kuroo nods his head and mouths the word “Go” with a heavy heart. He reads Daichi’s lips as he whispers the words “Thank you” before finally turning to walk towards the festival grounds.

Kuroo looks up at the stars, sparkling despite the clouds of smoke.

His world feels like it had just been torn in two, but somehow, in some way, Kuroo feels just fine.

 

 

 


End file.
